That Girl
by Hidden Tala
Summary: He was searching for something that could tame his restless soul. And he found her. ExT.
1. Drug

**That Girl  
**by **Hidden Tala

* * *

Author's Notes: **Before I confuse the bejesus out of you, I would like to warn you that in this fanfiction, Eriol doesn't know Tomoyo and she doesn't know him. This is an alternate universe of sorts. And for the nth time, this is an ExT fanfiction, screw canon. Enjoy reading.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Drug  
**

* * *

He knew it would rain the moment he stepped outside. But his stubborn self didn't heed the warnings of the darkening sky and the hint of lightning and continued to walk on foot. He needed to get out. The restlessness was beginning to drive him mad.

He wandered aimlessly through the streets of Tomoeda, searching for that something that was still a blur to him. But he knew, whatever it was, it would silence the nagging feeling in his gut. He walked in a bookstore, a place he usually tried to get away from when he was still in London, and found himself greeted by a very friendly old lady whom he learned later on as the owner of the place. She recognized him, not by his looks but by the way he conversed, as "that big shot Japanese writer in Europe _who_ _can't find his way home_". He laughed at her clear-cut description of him and was only too happy to oblige when she asked him to sign her copy of his book.

"Your books are not so sensationalized here as they were in Europe," she said when he handed her back the book. "How do you feel about that?"

He shrugged offhandedly. "I'm actually relieved that the people here don't give a lot of fuss about me or my books. God knows I've had too much of the media back in London. And the sense of anonymity here is just a breath of fresh air for me. I'm glad, honestly."

The old lady looked thoughtful. "But aren't you disappointed that your countrymen seem to be indifferent with your works? I thought celebrities are crazy for the limelight."

"Well, for one, I'm not some bratty superstar." He grinned. "I'm just a writer who wants to," he continued, making a close and open quotation with his fingers, "find his way home. And it's not true that my people don't read or are indifferent with my work. You proved me that."

For a moment he thought that the old lady looked flushed. Then the sound of wind chimes broke out, signaling a new set of customers. The kind old lady asked him to stay for a cup of tea but he politely declined, saying that he was still searching for that something he had no clue about. She merely raised a delicate brow and shook her head in good humor. He thought she heard her mutter, "What a bizarre young man," which made him laugh. He bade her farewell and made a promise to come by soon.

He continued to walk, ignoring the deep rumble in the heavens. He watched, with profound curiosity, the people walking in the busy sidewalk. There was a pack of high school students discussing the release of a new shoujo manga, some busy-looking people with a mug of Starbucks in their hands, that smiling guy in the newsstand, and a lot of lone individuals like himself. He wondered if they were just as restless as him.

There was that deep rumble again but now it was accompanied with drops of water. He wanted to curse himself for his stubbornness and his idiocy for forgetting to bring an umbrella. He ran until he reached the crosswalk. He waited for the traffic light to turn green. He ran with his jacket above his head. The rain made him think about London. He inwardly sighed, suddenly weary. He didn't want to think about London, not yet. He shook his head as if to clear his head. And suddenly he was on the ground toppled over with black and books. It was pure instinct that his eyes immediately darted to the books. Before he became a writer, he was, first of all, an avid reader, and it was that avid reader in him that made him look at the books rather than the weight above him. He was clearly surprised when he found his name in one of them.

"I'm so sorry," a soft feminine voice mumbled above him.

"Ugh," he grunted unintelligently.

The woman turned, releasing him in the process, and started to pick up her scattered belongings. He reached for the umbrella near his leg, which was hers, and covered them from the rain. He had no choice so he helped her carry the books and they hurriedly ran when the cars began honking at them.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry," she said in between pants when they stopped in a shed, her upper body was bent that made it impossible to see her face. "I didn't mean to run over you. I was in a hurry and I-"

"No, don't," he cut her off suddenly that it made her stiffen. "I mean, I'm not angry. I'm just saying that I was at fault too. I was lost in my thoughts that I didn't see you coming. I'm sorry."

She straightened up and he finally saw her face. His breath caught. It wasn't because she was blindingly beautiful or anything cheesy like that. But it was her face – those eyes, that nose and that mouth. He thought of a word. Drug.

She's the drug.

She gasped. "I got you wet! God, I'm so sorry! Take my umbrella. You can have it. I'm sorry but I'm really in a hurry, I have to go now."

She swiped the books out of his hands and before he could open his mouth, she became a blur of black.

* * *


	2. Lockjaw

**That Girl**  
by **Hidden Tala

* * *

Author's Notes: **Anyone here who's crazy for Twilight like me?

* * *

**Chapter 2: Lockjaw**

* * *

He came back as he had promised.

The sweet old lady surprised him with the warmest hug which he returned awkwardly. The unexpected display of motherly affection caught him off guard that he felt an uncharacteristic heat flush through his pale cheeks. The old lady had to stifle a laugh when she realized his embarrassment.

"I thought you were just being nice when you said you'd come back," she was saying while she led him to what seemed like a large lounging area. "Feel at home, dear. I'll come back with a cup of tea. What do you prefer?"

"Jasmine," he answered with a small smile, sitting on one of the many comfortable couches.

He sighed, reveling in the presence of so many books. The lounging area, though it was still part of the bookstore, was filled with old, musty books that he thought weren't really for sale because they didn't have price tags. He liked the Victorian feel of the lounge with its old-fashioned couches and the quaint coffee tables, the imposing fireplace at the center, and the antique-like candleholder at the wall. It couldn't be seen in the windows because it was located at the far back. But it was certainly a nice place to stay in to read after buying the books out front.

"Here's your tea, dear," Mrs. Minami said, handing him a cup and saucer. "I didn't add anything."

"I like them bland. Thank you, Ma'am," he answered gratefully.

She shushed him with a wave of delicate hand. She told him to call her Mrs. Minami or Keiko if he was too bold to dare. He laughed, saying he wasn't feeling so brave lately and settled for the former.

"My husband and I used to teach at the local university," she explained, smiling at him. "When we retired two years ago, we opened this store and it's as if we were never out of the school at all. Most of our customers were our former students and they still call us Ma'am and Sir. It was endearing at first but it's gotten old."

"You've put this up only two years ago?" he asked, clearly surprised. "It feels like it's been here for ages. It has that homey atmosphere you don't usually feel in bookstores. And this lounge, it's heaven for writers like me."

"You can come by anytime you want, dear," she offered kindly. "And thank you. My husband and I really worked hard to make it a bit different than the other bookstores in town. We are both lovers of books and we only did what we thought was conducive for readers or anyone who would just want to relax. I'm glad you found our shop homey. We were kind of going for that."

He grinned and sipped from his cup.

"How's it going with your soul-searching? Did you find _that something_ you wanted to find?"

He gave her a watery smile for the neat phrasing of words. He suddenly felt like smacking himself for being a sentimental fool.

"Actually, I think I have," he said uncertainly.

"Oh, really? What is it, then?"

He thought of that woman with the blackest hair, that woman who had too many books to carry on one rainy day. He thought of The Woman.

"A drug," he answered vaguely.

He saw the old lady scrunching her wrinkled nose. "I know that writers are entitled to have their own quirks. You're no Hemingway or Plath, I can see that. But drugs? Really, dear? Couldn't you be more inventive than that?"

He had to laugh at that.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Madame. But no, I'm not a drug addict, an alcoholic or a suicidal case. I'm clean." He looked distant for a moment, weighing the words. "I found her. She's the cure."

"Oh, it's a person," she said, obviously relieved. "And it's a she? Interesting."

"Yes and-"

He was interrupted again by the sound of wind chimes flowing through the air. He sighed, a bit miffed at the interruption. The old lady gave him an apologetic smile before going at the front to greet the newcomer. He caught on a bit of their conversation which was about some Stephenie Meyer and a fourth book. He heard the old lady (was that a) giggle (?) at the newcomer's comment which made him squirm in his seat. Giggling and old ladies just don't go together in one sentence. It's impossible.

"Minami-sensei, are you sure they didn't change the date?" He heard the newcomer whine. "I can't believe I still have to wait for four months for the last installment. I swear I'm going to die of deprivation."

"Of what exactly, dear?" He heard the humor in the old lady's tone.

"Edward, of course!"

"Patience is virtue, dear," the old lady reminded gently. "Edward can wait."

He shifted in his seat to look at the newcomer. He only saw glimpses of long hair. He also didn't forget that it was black.

"Do you want coffee, dear?" the old lady offered.

"You should really change this bookstore to a cafe," the newcomer joked. "Your patrons only come here for the free coffee."

The old lady sighed dramatically. "You are right about that. Look at you for example."

The newcomer laughed that he involuntarily had to stand up to go for a look. "Yes, look at me. I have to drop off papers at the university so I'll have to pass. Maybe later? Oh, but I have that convention at four."

"You can come by anytime you want, dear," the old lady said which reminded him of the same offer she gave him earlier.

"Of course."

She was already by the door when he finally took a good look of her. But her back was turned to him. She was still a mass of black hair.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she turned and met his eye. He stared, frozen in place.

She was The Woman.

Her eyes, he realized, was a touch of lilac and mauve. Those eyes narrowed as if it recognized him. It flickered. He tried to open his mouth but he was lock-jawed. She turned. And the moment was over.


	3. Wimp

**That Girl**  
by **Hidden Tala

* * *

****Author's Notes:** The book with the apple is Twilight by Stephanie Meyer. I totally recommend it if you haven't read that yet. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know I did.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Wimp

* * *

**

The next day after he first saw her in the bookstore, he came by in the hopes of seeing her again. He knew the odds of finding her there was very little and already schooled himself to prepare for the disappointment. But he nearly had cardiac arrest when he saw her perched on one of the comfortable couches, two tables away from the fireplace. Her long black hair was tied in a messy bun – so domestic and private that he found it oddly disconcerting. Her eyes, to his horror, were graced with the dorkiest of all the dorky glasses he's ever seen. Her sweatshirt looked twice her size and her feet were bare, snugly tucked in underneath her. She was perfectly hideous, and yet, he thought disbelievingly, she looked spectacular.

He forced himself to walk up to her, strike up a conversation no matter how lame it is, get a name, or even just introduce himself. He tried pep talk, bribed himself for a trip to Prague but his nervous system seemed to have died on him because he could've sworn not a single part of his body dared to move. He tried again. This time, the right foot worked. That boosted his confidence. He can do this. But he was greatly disappointed when the walk was put to a halt just before he got to her table. He was stuck behind her. He opened his unbelievably dry mouth but his tongue must have disintegrated on its own because he couldn't get out a word. He willed himself to try again. A sound came out. Cough. Another cough, and another, and he was choking on air. He wanted to die right there on the spot. He sat at the table behind her, ignored the curious stares of the other occupants of the room, and waved a dismissive hand at Mrs. Minami when she glanced at him in worry. He mentally stabbed himself for the public humiliation. Then he felt the chair behind him shake and its owner was giggling uncontrollably. He wanted so badly to turn and look at her. But god, she turned him into a wimp.

He became a regular visitor since then and occupied the same table though he now sat across the seat he first used, making her back turned to him. He noticed she always arrived before him and stayed at least until two or three in the afternoon. And she was always giggling like a crazy girl that it made him strangely irritable. He caught a glimpse of the book she was reading. It had a black background with a pair of hands cupping a blood-red apple as if it were some holy object. He made a mental note to buy it the next day. He wanted to know what so damn funny.

He gave her a forced smile when Mrs. Minami threw him an incredulous look when he handed her the book at the counter.

"Vampires," she commented dryly. "You really are a queer man, Hiiragizawa-san. I wonder what made you buy it."

"Somebody recommended it," he lied, suddenly fidgety. "Said it was a good book and all."

"You have a strange friend," she said in a teasing manner and smiled knowingly.

He nearly scowled. So she knew. Big deal.

"Don't even bother to ask me her name," she warned but her old eyes were playful. "I'd think being the man you are you'd have already gotten it a long time ago instead of wasting your time just staring."

"I don't stare," he mumbled, grimacing. "And I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you. I'm heading out to the reading room to get away from old pesky ladies. Later."

"Good luck with that!" the old lady called out, referring to the book, but he swore when he heard her laughter behind him.

He sighed in relief when he got to his seat. Good. The Woman wasn't in yet. He probably would have strangled himself to death if she heard that embarrassing conversation.

It was nearly twelve but he had an early lunch, a plan he concocted the day before. He wanted to know her usual arrival time.

Bored, he tore the book from its plastic and took few breaths before opening it. Romance novels and anything with vampires were his literary pet peeves. Mrs. Minami came to him and gingerly placed his jasmine tea at the table with that infuriating smile on her wrinkled face. He could have sworn she chuckled when she thought he was out of earshot. He wisely chose to ignore it.

He was already at the collision accident when a familiar black-haired girl passed him by and took her place at the table before him. She was dressed smartly today and her hair flowed freely to her lower back. He noticed too, quite happily, that the weird glasses were gone. And instead of the large black book with the apple, she took out stack of papers and began scribbling madly, lost in her own world.

He glanced dutifully to his wristwatch. It was 1:25.


	4. Name

**That Girl**  
by **Hidden Tala**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Name**

* * *

"She's not gonna disappear if you touch her, mate," taunted the man across him. "But she'll bloody melt if you don't quit with the staring."

He swung his head from _her _to the spiky-haired man before him. "I don't stare."

The spiky-haired man snorted in derision. "Whatever, man. You know you could just walk a few steps, stop at her table, then invite her for coffee or something instead of eating her alive with your eyes. Don't be a caveman, mate. Ask the woman out."

"Don't you think I've tried that already?" he snapped, glaring at his friend.

"And she turned you down?" The spiky-haired man whistled, clearly impressed by her. "I should have seen that."

"She didn't turn me down," he said, completely annoyed for having to explain himself to the grinning ape before him. "I tried to ask her but whenever I get close enough, I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack or my lungs would close up. Or my tongue would forget how to function. It's frustrating, it's… Bloody buggering hell. I'm a ponce."

"That you are, my friend," the spiky-haired man agreed, shaking in laughter. "That you are."

"She's driving me crazy," he complained, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "She won't even let me sleep."

The spiky-haired man narrowed his eyes at him. "Please don't tell me you followed her here. Tell me you went out here on your own and it's mere fate that she's sitting there on the other side of the restaurant in those _weird_ glasses."

He looked like he would deny it but Spiky Hair already snarled at him disgust. "Pathetic, mate. You just stooped to the lowest level: Stalking."

"The lowest level is drugging the girl and taking advantage while she's out cold," he said without humor. "And I'm not stalking her."

"_Brother_," the spiky-haired man sighed dramatically. "You seriously need to diffuse this sexual frustration and just talk to the damn woman. You need to get laid."

"Shut it," he snarled in anger. "Don't talk about her like that, Yamazaki. I swear I will kill you with this butter knife."

Takashi Yamazaki wanted to laugh at the ridiculous threat but the serious glint in his friend's eyes made him take a mental step back.

"You're in love with her," Yamazaki breathed in disbelief. "You're frigging in love with her and you don't even know her name."

* * *

"Have you got a name yet, mate?"

His intense gaze shifted from the woman in the podium to the spiky-haired Yamazaki standing beside him. Yamazaki lifted a black brow at him, amusement clearly etched on his genial face.

"Daidouji," he replied, turning his eyes back to the woman speaker.

Yamazaki whistled softly and crossed his arms. "My, her parents sure aren't very creative people. A face like that should be a Yuri or-"

"It's her surname, you dolt," he mumbled, earning a mighty chuckle from the man beside him. He glowered in return.

"Chill," said the man, smiling at him. "I just couldn't wrap my mind around the idea that you're the stalking type. Whatever happened to the Hiiragizawa charm?"

"Don't you have anything better to do, Yamazaki?" he spat, glaring at his friend. "And how in god's name did you find me here?"

Yamazaki's grin widened that made him look eerily like the Cheshire cat. "I'm a bit of a stalker myself. Chiharu-chan loved that about me. So, back to the unanswered question: what the hell are you doing? I've watched you undress that woman with your eyes for a week. Why the bleeding hell haven't you asked for her name yet?"

"Perfect timing," he answered grimly, fixing his eyes on the stage. "I'm just waiting for it."

Yamazaki scoffed at him. "That's just the biggest load of bull I've ever heard. There's no perfect timing. Haven't you heard the latest? Good things _don't _come to those who wait. Good things ___come to those_ who want something so bad, they can't sit still."

"I like the old cliché," he replied in a shrug. "It's overused because it's true."

Yamazaki looked like he was going to argue but decided against it. He knew Eriol. And he knew how twisted the man could get just to prove his point.

"What are they discussing about anyway?" Yamazaki asked, changing the topic.

His mouth curved at this. Pride taking over his form. "She's using Feminism on my latest novel, _Desire____."_

Amusement flickered over Yamazaki's face. "A woman after your own heart, mate."

Eriol was less amused but there was still pride in his tone. "She's dissecting every bit of it. You know how that irritates me. When I arrived, she was saying how she thought what an ass I was for not naming the heroine and for making her ugly in the face but utterly desirable in the body. But she backpedaled a little bit, saying that maybe I did it because that woman represented every woman in the world. And now she's butchering my portrayal of the woman. She thinks I'm a sexist because I didn't give the woman a stable job. She's totally missing the point, mate."

"She thought you were an ass?" Yamazaki guffawed.

He gave Yamazaki a bland stare. "Really? After all that, that's all you're gonna say?"

Yamazaki coughed then cleared his throat after all that laughing. "Eriol, my man, do the world a favor. Marry her."

He grimaced and returned his attention to the beautiful woman in front. She took off her weird glasses as she listened to the question from one of the panel. He didn't hear what was said because he was too fascinated at the way she bit her lower lip, as if waiting for a blow. She was nervous, he could tell. Her chin is shaking. A stammer's about to come out. But imagine his surprise when her mouth twitched to form a disbelieving grin.

"After three boring hours of my lecture, you just want my opinion aside from my feministic view of it?" she said in a laugh. "Are you his publisher?"

The audience laughed. And he couldn't help but follow too.

Yamazaki grasped his shoulder. "She's you with female parts, mate. It's terrifying."

"Bug off," he laughed.

He waited with bated breath for her response but it's taking her too long to open her mouth. Then she breathed in and showed some teeth. She smiled. "It was brilliant. And if I may be so bold, I would like to say that it was an honor to read such a fine piece of literature."

He died. And had gone straight to heaven.

"Don't fricken swoon on me, man," Yamazaki complained, kicking him on the side. "You're embarrassing me."

But Eriol was still in a daze. And it looks like he's not coming out of it anytime soon.

"Mate, she's looking this way," hissed Yamazaki.

He suddenly took control of his faculties and followed Yamazaki's gaze. True enough, she was looking their way. But not at him. Or them. She was looking fixedly on the empty seat in front of him and was smiling vaguely at it.

"Is she looking at that chair?" Yamazaki frowned and studied her. "Is she a psychic or something?"

"Hmm," he said absentmindedly, still staring at her.

He felt like she knew that she was being watched because she wouldn't look up. She released her gaze on the empty chair and faced the other direction to welcome the congregating well-wishers. He sighed because he knew that the moment was over.

"What are you doing, mate?" asked the confused Yamazaki. "Why won't you go up there?"

"It's bad timing. She might get embarrassed if she knew it was me. I don't want her to think I'm an egotistic prick."

"But you _are_ an egotistic prick," Yamazaki cheekily argued. "That's why you're here."

He was about to retort a cutting remark but he was stopped by a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. He turned around and found her looking at him with the most bemused expression on her face. She caught his eyes in surprise. He expected her to turn her eyes away. But she held them in place. And before he could do anything, anything at all to keep her eyes locked on his, her mouth turned up and he was only left with a ghost of a smile.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Hi, I'm back from the dead. I won't make up excuses, I really suck. I'm sorry, guys, but you know, life just got in the way. And throw some sporadic writing sickness and it just ruins everything. I really want to finish this because this story needs to be told. And I know how it's going to end. So please, be patient with me.

Oh, and the novel I said Eriol wrote? It's _Desire_ by Paz Latorena. And it's a short story rather than a novel. Just making that clear. I don't want to look like I stole it.

See you on the next chapter, guys! And don't forget to give me some love! :)


End file.
